


the sky's the limit

by kelpies



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander Hamilton Messes Up, Alexander Hamilton is on Twitter, Angst, Eliza is Too Pure For This Cruel World, F/M, Gratuitous Swearing, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, M/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 11:19:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7047523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelpies/pseuds/kelpies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander first starts to worry when the President rings him. From there, it’s really a downwards spiral.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the sky's the limit

**Author's Note:**

> I've taken enormous liberties with the facts, but mostly to do with the amount of children they had. Since they only had Philip 2 after Philip 1 died, I've erased him entirely, because Angelica ALSO had a son called Philip, and that seems an excessive amount in such a short story. Enjoy!

Alexander first starts to worry when the President rings him. From there, it’s really a downwards spiral. 

“Thomas Jefferson says he’s got something incriminating against you,” Washington says mildly, which translates to _you’ve done something awful and I hope you haven’t killed a man_. “Something to do with speculation on the markets with a Mr Reynolds. Which, I’m sure you know, is impeachment-worthy.”

“I would _never_ ,” Alexander spits, horrified at the allegation, “because I value integrity. Thomas Jefferson is bored and lying and he’s friends with James Madison, who’s boring and loves drama when he’s not involved, and there’s thirty years of stuff I could bring up-“

“But you won’t, because you’re going to let this slide. If he doesn’t have anything against you, there’s nothing he can do.” Washington sighs and Alexander can picture him rubbing his temples, eyes squinted like he’s trying to push away the headache by sheer willpower. “I’d recommend talking to them both, if you think they have something against you.”

“I’m not going to talk to them, because Thomas Jefferson is a filthy liar. Besides which, if I wanted to get impeached, I’d do something much worse, like burn down the Pentagon. Or murder Thomas Jefferson.”

Washington sighs so hard Alexander thinks he’s exhaled every breath he will ever take. “Figure this out, Alexander. I’m begging you as a friend, not just the President.” He hangs up, and Alexander sits in his chair, staring at his laptop and wondering what on earth to do next. He grabs his phone, bashes out a text to Jefferson, opens his laptop and begins writing.

[13:31]  
> What the fuck have you been saying about me to the President  
< Nothing that isn’t true, apparently x  
< Besides which I have screenshots of emails. Care to see? They’re very incriminating, very salacious, and very press-worthy x  
> Screenshots don’t scare me I know what the fuck I said

He returns to the title of the blog post last. He hates doing blog posts, he doesn’t feel they capture the tone or severity of the situation, but he’s got to be quicker than Jefferson, and much as he'd like to he can hardly tweet the whole experience. This way, at least, he can do damage control. In the end, he goes for _Observations on Certain Documents in Which the Charge of Speculation is Fully Refuted_. It’s hardly snappy, but it doesn’t need to be. Maybe with a less snappy title it’ll receive less media attention, and he’ll get off scot-free. He scans through for any glaring grammatical errors and hits post.

~~ 

The first person to ring him is Peggy, and in a way he’s grateful - she’s got all the ferocity of Angelica but the goodness of Eliza, and she’ll be a damn sight easier to talk to than anyone else he can list at the moment. He picks up his phone like it’s a bomb and gingerly accepts the call.

“What the _fuck_ , Alexander?” Peggy hisses down the phone before he can fully realise the extent of her anger. “You fucking- you _asshole_ , you _dared_ to cheat on my sister and then you blog about it? What the _fuck_?” 

“Let me explain-“ 

“No! Let _me_ explain! It’s, what, two-thirty? Eliza will have a break in fifteen minutes where she checks her phone and sees that the _world has exploded_ because her _husband_ , the _father of her seven children_ , who she’s loved since she was twenty-two, has had an affair lasting _years,_ and you didn’t have the _gall_ to fucking tell her! You told the entire world before you told her! How _dare_ you?”

“Peggy, I-“

“And then,” she adds coldly, “of course, Eliza might hear from one of her colleagues. They’ll ask if she told you to publish this, and she’ll ask publish what, and then fucking Suzanne from reception will have to break it to her, and you’ll be an even more monumental asshole than you were before!”

“I had to,” he says. “Reynolds was going to let the whole world know. Jefferson was on my back about something anyway, and I had to tell him so he didn’t spread some god-awful rumour about me and my family, and then the press would have found out, and that would have been worse! This was damage control! It was a sacrifice!”

“A sacrifice?” Peggy says, incredulous. “Angelica moved to London for a husband she didn't love and who sure as shit didn’t love her back. She struggled for _years_ there because it was good for him and good for her kids, and you have the _audacity_ to call cheating on your wife a sacrifice?” She scoffs down the phone. “Gel will murder you, and we’ll all be goddamn pleased about it.” Before Alexander can respond she hangs up, and he’s left with his thoughts and the mounting realisation of what he’s done.

 ~~

[14:32]  
> eliza please don’t look online when you get on your break just call me xx  
> i mean honestly you don’t want to look online  
> genuinely just call me xxx  
< Peg you’re scaring me, are you okay? xx  
> I’M fine. just ring me xxx

[15:06]  
> you’re too good for him, betsey. honestly. he’s an asshole. worse than an asshole. he’s an eel. also i'm flying out tonight so yeah see you in like four hours xx  
< You can stop being mean, Peggy. I’m okay. xx  
< Also: an eel????

~~

**CNN @CNN**

     @adotham reveals his affair in detail in latest blog post. cnn.it/1QQTlyR

** Daily Mail US @DailyMail **

     @ElizaHamilton spotted crying just minutes after news of husband's affair

** President Washington @POTUS **

     The president will not comment on news of Sec. Hamilton's alleged affair.

** George Eacker @Georgeeacker2 **

    @PhilHamilton knew ur dad was evil.. still proud 2 uphold his legacy?? http://huff.to/1UhlBwE

** George Eacker @Georgeeacker2 **

     @PhilHamilton not gonna bother defending urself??? coward like ur father

**thomas jefferson @tomjeff**

     @adotham oh my god...... oh my god

~~

[15:33]  
> I just got off the phone to Eliza. You’re in deep shit, Alexander Hamilton.  
< You only ever use my full name when you’re angry, Gel  
> Don’t ‘Gel’ me.  
> I’m furious. I’m beyond furious.  
< Please just let me explain myself in person

~~~ 

Angelica agrees to meet him for coffee at her house, which is more than he’d hoped for. It also means that she’s not as angry at him as he’d anticipated, since she’s willing to meet him face to face. _Unless_ , he thinks, _it’s like that scene in Holes where Sigourney Weaver claws Jon Voight in the face_. He certainly wouldn’t put it past her. Her son Phil answers the door, and wordlessly points down the hall to the kitchen. He slams the door after Alexander enters and storms upstairs as Angelica emerges from the kitchen, her face unreadable. She gestures to the coffee table and takes a seat, motioning for him to do the same.

“Hey, Gel,” he says, perching on the chair opposite her.

“You’ve invented a new kind of stupid,” she tells him, horrifyingly calm. “You think you’re ever gonna outlive this? This is the worst thing you’ve ever done.” 

“Gel,” he says, this time more pleadingly. She arches an eyebrow at him in utter disdain.

“I got some news, pal,” she says, her voice rising with barely contained fury. “You’ve redefined your legacy. You've destroyed your reputation because you couldn’t resist refuting schoolyard taunts, and because you couldn’t keep it in your pants. You’ve destroyed your marriage, you’ve ruined your relationship with your kids, you’ve been a _horrendous_ example of a good man. You disgust me. Congratulations.”

“Did you make me drive all the way here just so you could shout at me in person?”

“Of course I did. You’re a monumental asshole.” She stares at her coffee, one eyebrow arched, and rearranges her skirt around her. “Go home. See Eliza. Book a hotel room. I doubt you’ll make it out of this one.”

“So what, that’s it? Talk over?” He hisses, desperate for Phil not to hear. “You made me come here for a thirty second attack?”

“Get out my house,” she says coldly, meeting his gaze. “Go home. Talk to Eliza. Don’t talk to me for a long time.”

~~ 

The drive home feels much shorter than usual, and Alexander knows it’s entirely to do with the fact that he doesn’t want to be there. He pulls into the driveway and sits in the car, letting the engine idle. He could still leave, but he knows Eliza deserves better, so he swallows his fear, turns off the engine, and heads up to the house. It’s eerily quiet inside, although a glance up confirms that Alex Jr, James and John are peering over the banister. James and John vanish as soon as he meets their eyes. 

“She’s in your room,” Alex Jr tells him. ‘She’s pissed, Dad.” With that he ambles off, and Alexander is left to make the journey to his bedroom alone.

“Eliza, can we talk?”

“We have nothing to discuss,” she says calmly. “You brought some girl into our home while I was on vacation with the kids and you didn’t just do it once or twice but for a whole summer, because you couldn’t resist.”

“That wasn’t it,” he says lamely, knowing she’s right anyway. “There was more to it than that, I promise you.”

“And maybe one day I’ll be willing to hear it,” she replies, folding his suit trousers into the holdall with delicacy. “But for now you can sleep somewhere else. Bring the girl with you if you want. I don’t care where you go or what you do for now, but you won’t be under my roof. Don’t talk to the children unless they contact you first. They know what you’ve done.” She zips up the holdall and hands it to him, attempting to avoid meeting his gaze. "Please don't make this any harder than it has to be."

Alexander takes the bag and lets it drop to the floor, wondering if she'll ever forgive him, and knowing he'll never deserve it anyway. "Eliza, please. We can get through this. I'm doing damage control as we speak. It'll blow over, the press'll stop hounding us, we can go back to normal -"

"You think this is about the press?" Eliza laughs hollowly. "I can't believe you. Please, just get out of the house."

There's no point arguing. He stoops to pick up the bag and walks away. This time, none of the kids are anywhere in sight, and he's praying that they're too young to understand exactly what's happened. He's not sure he could live with himself if he alienated his whole family. Once he's packed his stuff in the car, he glances back up at the house, wondering if Eliza's watching him go. 

~~

Angelica agrees to watch the kids while Eliza meets Peggy at a bar near Capitol Hill. Eliza's not drinking tonight, because it would be too easy to drown her sorrows, and Peggy seems to have taken it upon herself to drink enough for the both of them. Eliza's just finished explaining what little more she knows about the blog, which the news sites are shortening to  _Observations_ , and Peggy looks angrier and angrier by the second.

 “Maria Reynolds. That whore,” Peggy says, downing her drink and standing up to buy another. “Want anything?”

“Don’t call her that,” Eliza says tiredly. “It absolves Alexander of guilt. Besides, it’s hardly her fault to begin with. Handsome, rich, famous man shows an interest in you when you want to have his job one day and you’ve got an abusive partner at home? I know a hundred people who would do anything for that opportunity, abuse aside.”

“So what, she’s some paragon of virtue?” Peggy huffs, sitting back at the table. 

“She wasn’t to blame.” Eliza runs a hand through her hair and realises with alarm that she desperately needs a shower. She runs over what the kids are doing - Philip and Angie are still at Columbia with no plans to come home; Alex, James, John and William are all with Angelica; Suzanne from work is still babysitting Ellie. “Can we head back to yours? I need to wash my hair.”

They’ve barely left the bar when her phone rings. She’s blocked almost every number on her contacts list, but answers anyway without really checking who it is.

“Hello?”

“Hey Mom,” Philip says, and he sounds exhausted. “I heard about Dad.”

“Who from?” Eliza asks sharply, praying that it was from Angie.

“Some kid in my year named George Eacker. Said some pretty nasty things. Ang told me to leave it, but that hardly seems fair, and I don’t want to, but I will, ‘cause it’s what you’d want me to do, right?”

“Right, and your father would love it if you fought him.” She’s so weary, so bored of all of this already and it’s only been four hours, and she’s cursing the day Angelica brought him over to dance. “Be good, Philip. Head down, shoulders square. Ignore anyone who flings any of this at you, you’re bigger and better than that. Please don’t do anything rash.”

Philip laughs hollowly. “Like Dad would? Sorry. That was mean. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m staying with Aunt Peggy and the kids tonight. Are you staying in Columbia?”

There’s a scrabbling noise at the end of the phone and a girl’s voice can be heard in the background. Eliza’s trying to piece together who it could be - not a roommate, obviously, and it doesn’t sound like Angie, but a girlfriend? Surely not - when he hears Philip shout, “Sorry Mom, my friend’s here and I dropped my phone.” There’s another quieter scraping noise and he says, much clearer this time, “Yeah, I was planning on staying, unless you want me to come home.”

“A friend?” Eliza remarks, amused, and she can almost hear him blushing.

“Yeah, she takes Political Theory with me, she’s pretty cool, we’re doing a group project together and I forgot about it. I’ll call you later?”

“Don’t worry, honey. Have fun with your friend. Bye, sweetie.”

~~

Philip tosses the phone onto the bed and attempts a smile at the girl in the doorway. "Hey, Theo."

Theodosia Burr scoffs and moves to sit beside him. She takes his hand, rubbing small circles around the base of his thumb. "You don't have to fake a smile. Sorry to burst in like that. Is your mom okay?"

"She didn't really say. She's- she's coping." He hands her his phone. "Have you seen the shit Eacker's been throwing at me on Twitter? He's so bitter about it."

"He's only mad he lost the debate," Theo reasons, unlocking his phone to scroll through his feed. "Besides, he's always hated you, that's nothing new." She grins at him and passes his phone back, and all of a sudden her smile falters. "You didn't respond, did you?"

"I might have tweeted him angrily. Once. But he deserved it and there's no denying that, and it's totally legit allowed 'cos Mom only told me not to just now  _after_ I'd done it, so that's fine?" He gives her the puppy eyes he knows she can't resist, and she shoves him playfully.

"You're an asshole, and you need to leave it. What did you even say?"

"Something along the lines of _I got in on talent_ and  _you got in 'cos your daddy's a corrupt lawyer_ and that if he wanted to fight in person to find me." Theo looks wildly unimpressed at that, so he begins backtracking. "I mean, he's never fought a day in his life, and I grew up with six siblings, Theo, I could take him any day."

She laughs at that, a genuine belly laugh, and pinches his side, delighting in the squeal that follows. "You're the most ticklish person I know. You're a lover, not a fighter." She bats her eyelashes at him and leans up for a kiss. "Promise me you won't actually fight Eacker."

Philip sighs dramatically, flinging himself on top of her and suppressing a laugh as she pokes his back. "Fine. I'll leave my fighting words at home."

"Get off me, you weigh more than my dad. I won't be any fun to have sex with if I'm dead because you crushed me."

He leaps off the bed and pulls her up with him, drawing her into a bear hug. "Any more talking about your untimely death and I'll have to tell your dad we're dating."

She laughs and relaxes into him, gazing around his bedroom. It's small, true, but he's furnished it to make it look like home. There's a framed photo of Phil and Angie in Venice, the year before Phil went to college, surrounded by smaller photos that have been taped to the wall. Every family member appears at least twice. Beside the window, there's a collection of pictures with his friends from both back home and college. In all of them, Philip's laughing. Thinking back, Theo can't remember the last time she saw him down. She hugs him tighter and plants a kiss on his chest, and reckons it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world for their parents to know.

~~ 

Like so many times when things have gone monumentally wrong in his life, Alexander drives to the cemetery and visits John’s grave. His parents had fought to have him buried in South Carolina, but his will had been specific: he wanted to be buried in the Arlington Cemetery, if he were allowed, and his request had been granted. It’s a nice enough place, all things considered. John’s grave overlooks a tree-lined path, and in the winter sun it’s more than peaceful, in spite of the foot traffic. He slumps where John’s feet are resting, six feet beneath him, and breathes in the air, regretting every decision he’s made up until now. He plucks the grass around him, sifts it with his fingers, and despite thinking it’s better turning his phone off, he opens his photos and scrolls up to the screenshot of the last text he received from John.

[09:57]  
> Hey Alex, just checkin’ in. Just landed in South Carolina so I won’t be able to talk for ages, you know what Dad’s like. Gotta run some errands too, see if Martha’s good to meet me for lunch. I’ll call you tonight, let you know how awful this place is, I know you’d love it here. The locals still want to burn the gays and everyone is racist. If I’m honest death would be a relief. Miss you already x

An hour or so after the text, Alexander had turned on the news to see there had been a shooting at a Planned Parenthood clinic in Charleston. Six people had died, including the shooter. The second person to be named was Lieutenant John Laurens; he had been found sheltering a sixteen-year-old girl. He had two bullets in his chest and another in his temple, execution-style. Thinking about it now, Alexander wants to cry. John’s only been dead three years, but still the pang of grief at his loss is overwhelming. 

A shadow falls over the headstone and he glances up, beyond caring whether it’s the press or not, and doesn’t know if it’s better or worse when his eyes adjust and he sees it’s Peggy.

“Mind if I join you?” 

He shrugs and shifts over, allowing her to sit next to him. The silence stretches out, interminable, until Peggy breaks it by asking, “Do you miss him?”

The floodgates are open. He wonders if she realises. “He was my second friend, you know that? First was Aaron Burr, we met outside some bar near Princeton after I punched the bursar. He listened to me, introduced me to John and Lafayette and Mulligan. John was going off to Iraq in a few months, do a tour there, but he got wounded pretty badly eight months in when he jumped on a grenade to protect his friend and was honourably discharged. He was devastated, because he had this big idea of going off and winning some medal for valour, and instead he gets a leg blown off and is forced to come back. He did rehab in New York, because he didn’t want to go home. His dad was horrible, did you know that? Said he would have preferred it if John had come home in a casket because there’s honour in dying for your country. And he’s finally rebuilt his life, he’s gonna go into politics, and then he goes to see his sister to see if she’s free for lunch, and a guy decides to shoot up Planned Parenthood. His sister works there, she’s a receptionist, she survived, but she had to ID his body for the paramedics.” His voice has gotten too loud, and he swallows a sob. “He was 27.”

Peggy looks shell-shocked. She stares at the headstone and whispers, “I’m so sorry.”

Alexander manages a small smile at her. "So yeah, I miss him."

"You loved him, didn't you?" It's not really a question, and they both know what the answer is anyway. He chooses not to reply, and watches a family sit down at a grave nearby and lay some flowers against the headstone. There's a boy who looks about Ellie's age, and he immediately starts tearing up the grass next to him, whimpering loud enough for him to be heard. The father shushes him and ruffles his hair, and produces a small sandwich for the boy to nibble on. The woman next to him rubs his arm reassuringly. They almost look content, like they're not at a cemetery at all, except for the visible sobs that wrack the man's body. Peggy leans towards him, then thinks better of it, and draws back, saying instead, "Why did you do it?"

Alexander sighs and wipes his eyes. "I thought you'd read the post."

"Yeah, and it says an awful lot about the fact that you bedded her because you were too naive to see the position she was in, but nothing about why you thought to cheat on your wife." He glares at her, and she raises her hands in defence. "I'm not angry. I mean, I am, but I'm drunk right now, and I want to understand." She lowers her voice, places a hand on his shoulder. "I'm not here to ream you out."

He shrugs off her hand and murmurs, "It was the same summer he died. Eliza was upstate with the kids, and I missed her more than you could know, but I had to push this bill through, it was so important to me, so I couldn't go to join her, and Maria was there, and she needed help from her husband. She worked in the department, asked me to give her some advice, saying I was a man of honour. It lasted the whole summer, her husband found out, and saw he could blackmail me into money each month. It's not an excuse, but it's an explanation. How's Eliza?"

"Coping. Phil and Angie are staying at Columbia. The others are happy to just stay together for now. Have you eaten yet? You should get some rest."

He stands up, wiping the dirt from his trousers. Peggy follows suit, and draws him in for a hug. 

"I'm still angry," she reminds him, "but please take care of yourself." He watches her walk away, and wonders where he can go from here. 

~~

He comes back home to find Philip has left him a voicemail; Alexander can only pray that it's not hateful. Philip doesn't have a hateful bone in his body, but he does hold an incredible amount of love for his mother. If he hates anyone right now, it'll be his father.  

"Hey Dad," Philip says cheerfully. "Just calling to say that I'm not mad at you. I defended you to this guy earlier, he was being such an asshole about you, and I wasn't gonna let it slide. He threatened to shoot me, how crazy is that? But my friend told me that really I shouldn't be mad at you, 'cos it'll only make other people pleased, and it'll be better to be seen as a 'secure family unit', or whatever. I'm coming home with Angie for the weekend. I miss you guys, and I know you miss me so much you'll totally forget you and Mom are fighting and you'll be cool with each other. Call me tomorrow morning, yeah? I've got an essay to write so I'm going to the library crazy early. Bye!"

Alexander can't help himself, but he checks Philip's twitter. He seems to be in the middle of a feud with some guy named George Eacker, although it looks very one-sided. True to his word, Philip has barely replied, but that doesn't seem to have slowed his opponent.

**George Eacker @Georgeeacker2**

  @PhilHamilton gonna shoot u right in ur fucking lying mouth u cunt

**George Eacker @Georgeeacker2**

  @PhilHamilton gonna fuckin WRECK u and ur family, gonna shoot u dead

**Philip Hamilton @PhilHamilton**

  @Georgeeacker2 do you ever like... stop. Breathe. Calm tf down lmao

**Philip Hamilton @PhilHamilton**

@Georgeeacker2 besides you've got a corrupt lawyer daddy, so your family's hardly virtuous lmao

**George Eacker @Georgeeacker2**

@PhilHamilton ur filthy sodomite father @adotham gonna get what's coming to him....

**George Eacker @Georgeeacker2**

  @PhilHamilton bad boy bad boy whatcha gonna do whatcha gonna do when i come for you

~~

That night, Alexander dreams of a field. It's just turning light, and he's lying in the close-cropped grass beside an enormous oak tree with his eyes half-closed. John is sat upright beside him, combing his fingers through Alexander's hair. They're both naked, and there's a thin sheet crumpled into a ball nearby. It's warm, and they're content. A flock of swifts dart above him, chirping as the sun breaks over the horizon. John's fingers play around his hairline, creeping down to his neck, rubbing a hickey that Alexander knows is there; his fingers are warm and gentle, and Alexander knows they won't stay there long. They drift down to his collarbone and remain there, circling the edge of the bone. 

"I love you," John says. "I miss you when I'm away."  


"I miss you too," Alexander replies, his throat swelling and his eyes misting over. "You won't be gone long, will you?"

John grins and shakes his head, leaning forward to plant a kiss on Alexander's forehead. "I could never stay far from you. Not even if you marry Eliza, not even if you marry  _Burr_ , I'll always come back for you." There's something wet dripping onto his face. He opens his eyes and realises it's blood, coming from the small hole in John's forehead. John's eyes fill with tears, and the blood pours out faster. Alexander wakes up screaming just as the alarm clock goes off. He stumbles out of bed and heads straight for the shower, trying to rinse off the memory of the warmth of John's blood on his face. When he gets out he checks his phone out of habit more than necessity, but he has eight missed calls from Eliza. He's about to ring her back when she calls again.

"Hey, El-"

"Philip's been shot," she chokes out, sounding for all the world like a wounded animal, like it's her that's been shot instead. Alexander feels the ground drop out from underneath him, and his vision goes dark momentarily. He stumbles back until his knees bash against the bed and he sinks onto the mattress. 

"What? Who? When?"

"He's at Columbia Hospital. Please get on the next plane. I'm flying out in an hour." She hangs up and leaves Alexander sat on the bed, wondering how his week could possibly have gone from bad to worse. He's not sure how he manages it or why he thinks to do it, but before he knows it he's calling Aaron Burr. When he finally picks up, Alexander manages to explain he needs a ride to the hospital, where he is, and that Aaron needs to hurry. He's not sure of the time frame, but it seems like light years before Aaron bursts through the door. 

"Alexander?"

"It's Philip," Alexander whispers. "He's been shot." 

Aaron's by the bed in no time, helping Alexander to his feet. "Can you walk?" He asks, steadying Alexander until it becomes clear the answer is no. He helps him out to his car, and straps him in. Ordinarily Alexander would have bristled at the help, but he feels too numb to be angry. He barely notices Aaron rubbing his back or pressing his lips to Alex's head.  

"Washington's heard already, he's authorised a plane for you and Eliza. We'll get to the airport in half an hour, maximum. The news outlets are already reporting it." There's a buzzing in his ears, and he briefly wonders if he's going to be sick. He can't hear most of what Burr is saying, but he figures that it doesn't matter a huge amount. By the time they arrive at the airport there's already a plane waiting on the tarmac. Aaron guides him to the plane, and before he can board Aaron hugs him. It's odd, being hugged by a man so distant and unaffectionate, but when they pull apart Alexander can see that Aaron is holding back tears, looking like a haunted man. He turns and walks back towards the building, and Alexander takes it as his cue to board. When he gets inside the plane he spies Eliza being hugged tightly by Angelica; they're both crying, but Eliza is howling with pain, and it breaks his heart to look at. She glances up as the door slams closed behind her, and doesn't hesitate in climbing out of her seat and running full force at him. He catches her in his arms and holds her, rubbing her back and kissing the top of her head. 

"Will he survive?" Eliza mumbles. "Please say you think he'll survive."

"He's a Schuyler and a Hamilton," Alexander replies, trying for some brevity. He glances up and catches sight of Angelica's face; she looks pale and haunted, as if the reality that Philip might not survive is only just sinking in. "He'll live."

~~

** CNN @CNN **

**** @adotham son Philip shot by fellow student on Columbia campus. cnn.it/2FRpazT5

** Sen. Aaron Burr @aaronburr **

      My thoughts and prayers are with fellow Democrat @adotham. Praying for his son's recovery.

**Abigail Adams @msabbeyadams**  


      @adotham Job 1:21 The Lord gives and He takes away. He gave you a harlot and a sodomite, He took your son. Praying for him.

** Gilbert Lafayette @lancelaf **

      @msabbeyadams I may not speak fluent English, but I understand you well enough to tell you to fuck off

**Alexander Hamilton @adotham**  


     @msabbeyadams are you saying it's my bisexuality or my unfaithfulness that caused an unjust God [1/?]

** Alexander Hamilton @adotham **

**** @msabbeyadams fuck you, fuck your husband, how dare you capitalise on my family's grief [6/6]

~~

They arrive at the hospital to find that Philip is still in surgery. The receptionist gives them an apologetic look, and promises, "I'll make sure the doctors update you the second they have any more information."

"Who did it?" Alexander asks. He's kept away from the articles that have surfaced in the hour they've been in the air, but he couldn't keep off Twitter to defend himself and his family. The receptionist glances at her computer screen, clearly debating whether it breaches protocol to tell them.

"A fellow student called George Eacker's been named. He's been arrested," she says finally. "The police will be here soon to discuss what happened with you. If you take a seat I can let you know as soon as I have any news."

They oblige and sit on the shoddily upholstered chairs opposite the reception desk. Alexander opens his phone again and heads back to Twitter, typing frantically. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Eliza staring at him with barely concealed jealousy, and he knows it's because he has something to distract himself. Angelica is yet to reappear with coffee, and there's no sound but of his own rapid tying. He's the second fastest with his fingers; he had a competition with the kids once, supervised by Eliza, to see who could text the fastest. He'd only lost to Philip. Seemingly from nowhere a memory floats into his brain of Philip, age nine, playing piano with Eliza after Angie had given up for the night. Angie was a good pianist, and she found sight-reading easy, but her improvisation was nothing compared to her older brother. He'd sit beside Eliza, always playing the high notes, listening to her play a walking bass line and working off that. His favourite game was to play the tune to a song and change up the style, going from jazz to hip-hop to reggae, singing along in a variety of accents. 

His Twitter feed is filled with love for his family, which he guesses is nice if ultimately useless, and hatred towards Abigail Adams and those like her, which he's more pleased about. He replies to tweets, fills in the masses on what little he knows of his son's condition, and texts Aaron to let him know that he's at the hospital and likely won't be at work tomorrow. He's about to call Washington when a doctor appears.

"Mr and Mrs Hamilton? I'm Doctor Rodriguez."

Eliza's head shoots up and she stands fast enough to sway. The doctor catches her by the arm, and Alexander puts his phone back in his pocket and stands too. "Is he alive?" Eliza asks weakly.

The doctor nods. "For now. He survived surgery, which is positive, but you have to understand the bullet entered through his abdomen and lodged in his left arm. There was a large amount of blood loss, and all we can hope for is he remains stable." She smiles apologetically at them, and motions for them to follow her. "You can see him, but I need to inform you that it's not likely he'll make it through the night."

They sit at his bedside for hours, watching the monitors for any signs of change. He's in a medically induced coma, which Alexander is taking as a positive sign, because it'll allow his body to heal at a gentler pace, or so he reasons. He's turned his phone off entirely at Eliza's request. Peggy is with the children, and Angelica's returned to DC to help her with Angie in tow. Seven hours in, his heart rate drops low enough that alarms go off, and a team of doctors rushes in. Eliza and Alexander are escorted out; Eliza screams with so much emotion in her voice Alexander doesn't think he can handle much more. It feels like eternity until a nurse comes out. Her face is lined with wrinkles, and she looks deeply upset. Alexander's heart stops when a doctor emerges after her and asks them to follow him to a private room.

Alexander doesn't hear much of the conversation. He stops being able to listen after the doctor says "Nothing more we can do"; Philip is pronounced dead at 21:53. 

 ~~

The police explain that Eacker has been charged with first-degree murder, amongst other charges. He hands them a clear bag with Philip's phone and wallet in it, adding, "I'm so sorry for your loss." Alexander opens the bag with all the reverence of a holy man touching a relic of a saint, and removes the phone with delicacy. The background screen is a selfie of him and Theodosia Burr. They're at the top of the Empire State, and she's looking directly into the camera, beaming. Beside her is Philip, looking at her like she's the reason love exists.

"I didn't know they were together," Eliza says emptily, touching Theodosia's face. "He never mentioned it."

"I don't think he told anyone," Alexander murmurs, and all of a sudden it hits him like a train: Philip can never tell them about her, will never get the chance to say how they met, won't be able to invite her round for Thanksgiving or Christmas, because he is dead, and dead people can't tell their parents about girlfriends they were never supposed to know about. He feels overwhelmingly angry, because some asshole with a gun decided Philip's life wasn't worth living, and he'd been so angry over a petty argument that he'd shot him, and now Philip is gone. He wonders how on earth he's supposed to break the news to the rest of the world, because telling them about an affair is easy, but this is his son, and he's dead. Eliza's already on the phone to Angelica, and she can barely get the words out, but she manages. It feels so incredibly wrong to tell the world on Twitter, but he can't think of a better place.

** Alexander Hamilton @adotham **

     At 21:53 this evening my son Philip passed away. Please allow my family time to grieve. A statement will be released shortly.

The condolences come rushing in almost immediately. Abigail Adams has gone mysteriously silent, as have her cronies. There are calls for new, stricter gun laws, talks of a bipartisan agreement where guns will be banned on school and university campuses. Alexander can't find it in him to be pleased about the reforms. He turns his phone off eventually, unable to bring himself to deal with the outpouring of affection and criticism that's flooding Twitter. Beside him, Eliza looks shattered, like her entire world has been blown apart; he hasn't seen her this fragile since her father died. He's sick of the walls of the hospital, furious with the fact that he has to be there, but Eliza looks so worn-down he can't bear to ask her to leave with him. He wonders if he'll be sleeping alone tonight, then realises he probably won't be sleeping. 

A car is called to take them to the airport. It seems wildly unfair, that they have to return without their son. He realises with a jolt he'll need to arrange the funeral, and that seems even more horrible, because they will have to bury their child. 

~~

The following week proves who's loyal to Alexander and who isn't. Aaron Burr steps up masterfully, sorting out meetings and arranging press conferences to speak on behalf of the family. He pulls Alexander aside two days after Philip's death and asks if he knew his son was dating Theodosia. 

"Not until after," Alexander says, and he's praying it's the same for Aaron.

"I don't know why they didn't tell us," Aaron says. "I'm so sorry."

They agree to have Philip cremated, with his ashes scattered in the Schuyler family home's garden in Albany. After the cremation, Alexander weighs his ashes out of morbid curiosity. They weigh 8 lbs 6 oz. When he was born, Philip weighed only an ounce less. Alexander doesn't know what to do with that information, but he neglects to tell Eliza. He knows it will only hurt her more, and he's caused enough pain already. 

The night before they scatter his ashes, Eliza creeps into his bedroom. She couldn't bear to sleep beside him immediately after; he knows it's because she's stayed up all night crying, or writing down memories of Philip, or comforting the children. Tonight, however, she slips in beside him and presses the length of her body against his, curling into him like she used to when she was scared or upset. Automatically he holds her tighter, pressing his face into her hair and inhaling. Her fingers curl against his breastbone, and he feels her drift off to sleep beside him. He's so tired, so desperate to get at least an hour's sleep. With her back by her side, he achieves it.

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbeta-ed, so if anyone spots any glaring problems please let me know! It was also written instead of sleeping and revising. I live for feedback.


End file.
